To Protect a Wayward Child
by Raykushi
Summary: Hamato Yoshi was once a man. And then he was not. Multi-Parter. First Place Winner in DA's 2015 Turtle Tot ABC Contest! Word prompt: Wayward
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** To Protect a Wayward Child

 **Author:** Raykushi

 **Disclaimer:** Rights to TMNT belong to Nickelodeon and others. This is a fan piece only and no monetary gain comes from its publication.

 **Incarnation:** 2k12 TV show

 **Summary:** Hamato Yoshi was once a man. And then he was not.

 **Rating/Warnings:** Rated PG for some blood.

 **Word Count:** 3,868

 **To Protect a Wayward Child**

 _Monday's child is fair of face.  
Tuesday's child is full of grace._

 _Wednesday's child is full of woe._  
 _Thursday's child has far to go..._

Hamato Yoshi had a tail now. He also had ears that seemed to swivel on their own accord, moving to catch distant sounds of men and cars on the street. And whiskers that somehow seemed to be telling him from which direction fresh air flowed, a feat he didn't understand quite yet.

None of which he would consider easy to grow accustomed to, and yet it all paled in comparison to the fear he felt looking down at four small, green bodies pressed against his fur. Fur...

Moments ago, Hamato Yoshi had behaved shamefully.

The men, the strange twins who spoke in broken English, were gone. Doubled over, body wracked with pain, Yoshi forced himself to move. He took refuge in a huge drainage pipe at the back of the alley, an open mouth leading to an abandoned construction site behind the pet store Yoshi had just left.

The darkness within the pipe and the smell of earth was somehow comforting in this situation that was anything but. His clawed hands clenched against his chest as his eyes processed information he could barely comprehend. Tail. Ears. Whiskers. Fur.

He glanced back at the alley. Yes, the men were gone. The alleyway was empty, save for four small shapes moving in the puddle of green. He realized with a start that it was the turtles he had just purchased, now grown to the size of toddlers. The green glowing substance that had splattered from the canister had changed them, just as it had changed him.

Yoshi turned away and stepped further into the drainage pipe, peering through the shadows to the construction site at the other end. He had to find a doctor, his frightened mind told him. Or a place to hide, his instincts screamed. Unfortunately he couldn't take the warped pets with him now. He had to care for himself, he had to contemplate what had just happened. Surely someone from the pet shop would find them soon and do something appropriate with them.

One of the turtles cried.

Yoshi froze.

The sound hammered against his ears like his own pounding heartbeat. In an instant he was transported back to a night filled with fire and heat. A night he heard his daughter's cries rise up above the crackling of the eager blaze that engulfed his home, the sound telling his stricken heart that he could not reach her. And then the weak cries had petered out, leaving nothing but the sound of the hungry flames.

Slowly Yoshi turned back to the alleyway.

They stood unsteadily on two legs, their tiny arms reaching out, grasping at the air for any kind of support. One had overbalanced and fallen on the hard concrete, which had started the urgent cries that were now growing in volume.

Yoshi turned away again. Whatever was wrong with them, he could do nothing. He was a simple man, a lonely man, and this was a responsibility far and above dropping dehydrated food pellets into a glass tank. There were men out there better equipped to deal with this nightmare. Scientists. Biologists.

And yet the image of his daughter would not leave his mind. For months he had spent so much effort to block the painful past, to concentrate on surviving in this strange country. Now the memories were back to wrack his brain like piercing claws. The shrill outcry of the turtles in the alley was growing louder as the other three took up the sound.

Yoshi darted out of the pipe, into the alley. His changed body hugged the ground as he moved through the shadows, then he forced himself to stand upright. On the sidewalk at the far end of the alley people walked, went about their daily lives. Something he might never do again. But for now he grabbed the four turtles and, with a combination of carrying and dragging the small bodies, returned quickly to the shelter of the drainage pipe.

Quiet now, they pressed close against him, clutching his legs for stability. Two on each side, breathing noisily in the enclosed space. Four sets of bright eyes looked all around: at the alley, at the dirt and sludge under their feet, at him. Intelligent eyes that were alive with curiosity and fascination. Somehow, like a fairy tale from the country he had left, they were not animals anymore but children instead. And he had almost left them behind. It burned under Yoshi's skin, that he had behaved so shamefully. His ghosts would never let him sleep again if he would have done such a thing.

Yoshi knew he had to find a place of safety for himself, and for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Their eyes were the easiest way to tell them apart. There were other differences, of course. Ones he became aware of the more time he spent with them. Their green skin had different shades, different patterns of pale spotting that Yoshi's changed eyes could easily make out even in the dim underground. They had different ways of moving, of tracking him as he moved.

Bold green eyes came with a worrisome crack in the shell over his chest that Yoshi didn't remember seeing when he took the turtles from the pet shop. He feared that it had occurred when he dropped the glass bowl in the alley, but thankfully the marring didn't seem to slow the little one down. The young one toddled and pushed and climbed over his siblings just as much as they all did. If not more so.

The two with blue eyes, at first Yoshi took to be similar enough to be twins. They were both eager and curious, exploring their environment every time he took his eyes off them, with the other two following in their wake. But the one with a darker gaze, with a blue-green tint to his skin, watched Yoshi often with a focused look. The other watched just about everything else around them. Wide, pale blue eyes that watched the dripping water off the pipes above their heads or the faint breeze stirring trash on the ground or the occasional sewer rat that darted through the shadows.

The fourth was timid and cautious in a way the other three were not. Brown eyes took in everything around him with a quiet, solemn air. He moved only when he had to, to stay close to Yoshi or to follow his siblings. It did not escape Yoshi's notice that all four of them stayed close together as much as they could.

A part of his mind told Yoshi he should name them, but he could not. Not yet. The best and only name he had given to a child would never be spoken to her again.

The construction zone up above had had another large drainage pipe next to the one they sought refuge in, and this one had sloped downward into the ground. The smell of earth and underground somehow comforted Yoshi's senses, and after carefully surveying the empty site, he took the four little ones down below. Here there was a labyrinth of underground tunnels, and here Yoshi thought he had found the safety his new instincts cried out for. Safe away from the sight of those who lived above. And once he learned the layout of the New York sewer tunnels, he would be able to travel anywhere in the city undetected.

Yoshi found a place where the narrow passage opened up into a wider area for a few dozen meters of tunnel, the ground covered in many layers of dirt that had been washed here by the rain. Now he collapsed, aching all over, drawing air into his lungs and feeling it circulate and leave his strange new body. He patted himself all over, feeling the form of an animal, not a man.

That first day, for hours Yoshi simply rested and watched the turtles, learning their looks and their movements. When one fussed he held him close. When they tried to wander too far he pulled them back with a clawed limb. But when they all began to whimper and reach across the ground, searching, he realized with a sinking heart that he needed to feed them.

Yoshi was at a loss, at first. They were children, but also they were turtles. What could he provide to keep them alive? What would make them grow healthy, what would make them ill? How was he to obtain anything at all, being as he was now, something less than a man?

Then the smallest of the four sat up, clutching something in his stubby fingers. Automatically Yoshi reached out to take it, conditioned as a father is to protect children from their own curiosity. But the young one saw what he was doing and let out a squeak of protest, immediately shoving the thing into his mouth. It dangled from his jaw like a twitching soba noodle; only after it had been slurped up by the turtle did Yoshi realize it had been an earthworm. The child chewed and swallowed and gave a satisfied burp.

For a moment Yoshi was appalled. He stared at the happy face of the little turtle who looked very pleased with himself, as the other three continued to sit in the dirt and make distressed sounds. Then Yoshi clenched his jaw and dug his claws into the silt, searching, until he pulled up enough worms to satisfy all their demanding cries. He couldn't bring himself to put one into his own mouth. Instead he hardened his determination and ignored the cramped feeling of emptiness in his stomach. Yoshi still had the resolve of a man after all, no matter what had happened to him. He would not eat refuse out of the dirt. There was a world above them still, and tomorrow he would go and find appropriate food.

That night, for the first time since he lost her, Yoshi prayed to Tang Shen.

 _Help me,_ he implored. _I don't think I can do this on my own, my beloved._ Loneliness welled up in his heart, pressing down like an anvil on his chest, stealing his ability to breathe.

The only answer was the drip of water somewhere far off, a sound of the sewer Yoshi was already getting used to, and a few faint hoots from the little forms curled up against his body. After checking on them, he decided it was a sound they made in their sleep, as if to reassure each other that they were all nearby. He curled his tail around their bodies, keeping them close to his side.

The calm that Yoshi had once felt, lying in the dark with his wife sleeping by his side, was not here. And would never be again.

Yoshi sighed and tried to let sleep come. But it was a long time finding him, that first night down in the dark. 

~ . ~ . ~

The life of a scavenger was not an easy one, but Yoshi adapted. He soon learned the routes of the underground sewer tunnels, and where on the surface he could go for fodder that would not be missed, the discards of society. Always he kept the four small turtles in the widened section of tunnel where they had slept their first night, not far from the abandoned construction site. It was a small section of tunnel but free of debris. And completely enclosed once he blocked both ends with two broken desks dragged from a nearby junkyard.

Each day Yoshi had new realizations about the young turtles. Like puppies they followed him whenever they could, but like children they absorbed everything about the world around them with wide-eyed wonder. They learned to climb, to tumble, to run for a few faltering steps before falling in the dirt. And when they looked at him with their earnest eyes, as if he was the only important thing in the world, Yoshi no longer quite hated what he had become.

Of course, they learned to make demands of him as well. To cry, to scream, to roll in the dirt. The green-eyed child was particularly good at this, discovering how to throw spectacular tantrums when he felt the need to express his displeasure, leaving his brothers to watch him in shock and awe (or sometimes join in).

Yoshi's new body had some advantages when it came to this, such as his tail's ability to snake out and curl around the green-eyed boy before he could try to pull himself up over one of the desks, while Yoshi's arms were full with tending to the other three.

It was hard to leave them, even for the short periods Yoshi needed to scavenge the world above. Each time he would return to the tunnel with his heart in his throat, ears straining to take in sound from all directions as he approached, fearing the worst. And each time he felt his heart heal when they would run to him as soon as they saw him, reaching out for reassurance.

Yoshi had not come to America to be a beggar. He had an apartment on the other side of the city. Small, and the building was often broken into, but the rent was paid to the end of the month. He had had a job as well. Far from the respected position he had held in Japan, but the long hours and exhaustion of physical labor had sent him to sleep and made it easier to keep memories away at night.

For days he thought of his apartment. He had jeans and shirts there—clothes for work—but he also had kimonos, which he thought would be much more comfortable to wear in the body he had now. And weapons from his lost Clan. Heavy curtains. An old but serviceable tea set. Photos he no longer looked at but could not bear to throw away.

But it was very far to travel to. Much farther than he had gone so far. Yoshi looked down at the little turtles as they played amongst themselves, worrying what could happen to them in his absence.

 _I can't leave them alone for so long. But I cannot take them with me..._

But the supplies from his home, he needed them. He needed what was left of his old life. As days passed, he became certain there was no other choice.

 _I must go, and return as quickly as I can._ Without another thought, Yoshi turned and darted off into the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Carrying a bag over his shoulder, Yoshi crept back down the drainage pipe, moving quickly but quietly, straining his hearing. The weight of time pressed down on his shoulders like an extra burden to carry. He had been gone for hours.

As soon as he heard the small, piping sounds of distress, Yoshi broke into a run. The sounds from the tunnel ahead were more animal than child, light whimpers that reminded him of the sound of small, trapped birds. With a frantic leap he cleared the desk and landed lightly in their home, the bag sliding off his shoulder unnoticed. When his eyes searched the dim corners of the enclosed space, only three huddled forms turned toward him. The smallest, wide blue eyes, started to cry loudly. Immediately the other two joined in.

Now they sounded like children.

Yoshi cursed, then immediately placed a hand over a pain in his chest. Tang Shen had scolded him for cursing in front of their child. Only once. Her hurt eyes had ensured that he did not do it again.

Now three pairs of eyes looked up at him, demanding he fix what was wrong. Relying on him to restore their world to rightness and produce their missing brother. Blue and brown, no green gaze to make demands of him. Yoshi searched the area and found the desk on the far end of the tunnel had been pushed aside, just wide enough for one of them to slip through. It was a feat he hadn't thought any of the four possessed yet. His fear flowered into full panic.

They tried to follow him as he vaulted the desk. "No, no," Yoshi whispered, breathing raggedly, pushing them back and fixing the desk in front of the exit once again. There was no time to do anything else. His heart told him there was no time. He had to find the wayward child.

Their wails followed him as he ran deeper into darkness.

Down the sewer tunnels Yoshi ran, searching with all his senses for some sign of the little one. He only slowed when the tunnel split in two directions, his mind blank with momentary panic. He drew a desperate breath. Immediately a scent he knew, the scent of the children, flooded his mind. He turned toward the left pipe and ran again. Twice more in the dark Yoshi came to a split and twice more his sense of smell told him which way to go.

Faint light ahead, and Yoshi squinted as he ran forward, until his eyes adjusted and the scene developed before him like a picture coming to life. The end of the tunnel emerged above ground, a large pipe spilling water into a shallow drainage ditch. The sounds of the city streets were dangerously close.

The small turtle child was there, clinging to the edge of the pipe, hesitating to take a step out into the bright human world. But a deep growl from beyond seemed to shake the very air. A huge dog advanced along the edge of the ditch toward the open pipe, a snarling stray with compact muscles and coarse matted hair, black lips parted and baring white fangs at the child only a few scant feet away.

Yoshi acted without thinking. There was no time for thought. His hands were on the ground. He pushed off and leaped, hit the ground on all fours and then he was in the air again, this bounding gait eating up the space between him and the dog in seconds. He sailed over the head of the child, didn't allow himself to hesitate but hit the stray with his full weight.

The beast snarled and twisted its body around like a striking snake, sinking steel trap jaws into Yoshi's arm. Yoshi grit his teeth and hissed in pain. He retaliated, sharp teeth flashing down and biting into the dog's neck. A hot, metallic taste filled his mouth.

Yoshi yanked himself away at the same moment the dog released him to let out a yowl. He leaped back, giving the creature the opportunity to run, but the stray was not that easily dissuaded. It barreled forward, pink-tinted teeth bared. Yoshi kicked out at it to turn it away but it fearlessly snapped at his leg, ripping a long gash along his thigh.

When Yoshi faltered, down on one knee, the beast lunged. Aiming for his throat.

Yoshi followed his instincts and leaned back, his tail taking most of his weight. He lifted both legs and struck out with them together. Both clawed feet hit the stray hard, sending the creature sailing across the drainage ditch and crashing into the concrete wall on the other side. With a yelp, the animal collapsed in a heap.

Yoshi gasped for breath, hunched over, eyes glazed as adrenaline sang up and down his spine. He felt his tail lashing in agitation as the dog struggled to get to its feet, head hanging low and moving side to side, dazed. But before it could fully stand, the battle seemed to catch up with it and it fell back down, head slumped to the ground.

Yoshi could see its chest still rose and fell, and he knew he should go and drag it away before it regained consciousness. But no, this could only happen again, on another day. They were too exposed where they lived now. Too close to the surface. The battle had been brief, but any longer and a passerby could have heard and looked down in the ditch to investigate. Yoshi needed to take the children and go. Deeper, safer. Away from the dangers of the upper world.

He turned quickly then to look for the child. The young one hadn't moved from where he crouched at the head of the drainage pipe. He didn't make a sound as Yoshi limped over to him, supporting his injured weight on three limbs when he couldn't brace his leg properly.

Wide green eyes were glued to the crumpled figure of the dog on the other side of the ditch. The only indication that the boy was still awake and aware was the frantic rise and fall of his chest. Air whistled from his mouth, just short of hyperventilating.

Yoshi turned away and spat on the ground, getting the horrid taste out of his mouth. When he turned back, the green eyes pulled away from the dog and now looked up at him.

He could only imagine how he looked. How his fur stood on edge, the drip of something running down his wounded leg and arm. Mouth stained red. He had attacked the dog—not with a fist—but with claws and teeth. All his training had left his mind; he had fought with the instinct of a wild animal. In a true crisis, reason had left him. _I am a monster,_ he thought, and waited to see if the child would pull away.

The small turtle gave a tiny noise, a gasp that ended in a whimper, and held out his arms to Yoshi.

Yoshi gathered the boy in his arms and stood upright, forcing the pain to the back of his mind and allowing his tail to add support so he could stand on his injury. Green eyes closed as small arms wrapped around Yoshi's neck. He didn't cry, but Yoshi could feel him trembling.

As he limped away, Yoshi glanced over his shoulder once more at the downed shape of the stray. A man would have hesitated, and the child would have borne the scars of that hesitation. Yoshi had not. Because Yoshi was no longer a man.

Hamato Yoshi had lost so much. His family. His Clan. His nation. Himself. With all that gone, he could no longer be whole. He was only a remnant of what he had been before. A broken fragment.

"A splinter," he murmured aloud.

The child made a curious noise and tugged on the fur of his chin. "Spa!" he said, suddenly and loudly.

Surprised, Yoshi looked down at the small child, finding the luminous green gaze meeting his own with some puzzling expression, perhaps it was approval. And suddenly Yoshi had a name for him, plucked from books he had read in a quieter point of his life.

Perhaps Hamato Yoshi had lost much, but Splinter had begun to earn it back. Not a man, but not less than a man, either.

"Yes," he finally said, as he carried the child away. "Come, Raphael. Let's go back to your brothers."

END


End file.
